Between us and the forest there were British guns, dug in; and away
to our right were French guns--batteries and batteries of them. And
between us and the guns were great receiving stations for the
wounded, with endless lines of stretcher-bearers like ants passing
to and fro. By the din we knew that the battle stretched far away
beyond sight to right and left of us.

Many things we saw that were unexpected. The speed of the artillery
fire was unbelievable. But what surprised all of us most was the
absence of reserves. Behind the guns and before the guns we passed
many a place where reserves might have sheltered, but there were
none.

There came two officers, one British and one French, galloping
toward us. They spoke excitedly with Colonel Kirby and our French
staff officer, but we continued at a walk and Colonel Kirby lit a
fresh cheroot. After some time there came an aeroplane with a great
square cross painted on its under side, and we were ordered to halt
and keep quite still until it went away. When it was too far away
for its man to distinguish us we began to trot at last, but it was
growing dusk when we halted finally behind the forest--dusky and
cloudy, the air full of smoke from the explosions, ill-smelling and
difficult to breathe. During the last three-quarters of a mile the
shells had been bursting all about us, but we had only lost one man
and a horse--and the man not killed.

As it grew darker the enemy sent up star-shells, and by their light
we could sometimes see as plainly as by daylight. British infantry
were holding the forest in front of us and a road that ran to right
of it. Their rifle-fire was steady as the roll of drums. These were